God's war

the sun and moon hang,

still in the sky.

No trumpets sound,

but screams paint the air,

hell brings black snow,

and covers everything in ash.

I stumble and crawl,

in hands and knees.

The hot blood of the slain angels,

boils on the ground.

My fingers grasp the muddy ground,

of ichor and ash.

And I pull myself forward.
For in this darkness,

a sliver of light pulses.

Silently I beg,

“dear god, help me.”

my back scream in pain,

the two wounds,

at the shoulder blades,

are infected with pain,

as the acid rain,

mixes with the ashy snow.

torn limbs line the streets,

the ground rumbles with power.

From behind me,

a wicked laugh.

Then in front of me is tossed,

my wings.

One, feathery white,

now charred and bloodied,

with a sad stump, on which,

still hangs flesh.

The other, black,

bu translucent as well.

The knob joints,

of the bat-like wing,

are still twitching.

In anguish,

I snatch my wings,

both dear to me.

and turn to face him.

There he stands,

proud in gold armor,

his word, dripping

with my red liquid.

Around him swirls,

a bright white light.

So bright and pure,

the dark ash,

become a flurry of white powder.

He is beautiful,

surrounded by light,

two rode white wings,

peaking high above his head.

A godly angle,

nothing more,

then a mortal who became, by will,

a servant to their savior.

“chose now.” he commands,

and points his word.

I grasp my wings tighter,

and stare into the harsh light.

“chose now, or face damnation.”

he thrusts his sword,

slicing open the skin on my chest.

Then slowly,

I answer,

“never.”

“then die by god's might power!”

he raises his sword,

“amen!” he screams,

and thrusts his sword forward.

A surge of knowing power,

rise through me,

and suddenly I shut my eyes.

I remember the truth.

I remember the truth.

And simple smile.

I open my eyes.

This angle now moves slowly,

slow as molasses.

I stand and hold my wings in front,

of me.

then hum the hymn,

and they turn to dust,

then reappear,

in their formal place.

Now I walk to the side of my opponent.

With a small wave of my hand,

he returns to the right speed, 'and falls forward,

attacking an invisible foe.

He lets out a yelp,

as he regains his balance,

the whirls around.

Still humming,

a dagger appeared in m left hand.

“that devil's power!?”

I step forward,

bu continue to hum.

“you are no match for god's power!”

and again he moves forward,

but find his feet won't move.

I duck his blow,

and step to his side.

Then grab the hand on his sword,

with my right hand,

and bring my dagger to his throat.

Then whisper in his ear,

“your god is afraid of me.”

his gasp turns quickly,

to a bloody gurgle.

Then he falls to a heap,

in the ground.

And with his last breath,

my wings disappear.

I turn from this sad,

pathetic believer,

and begin searching for

my next godly sacrifice.

These are all original piece and as such no part, in part or whole may be used without my, Chelsea Johnson, written permission. Thank you.